


News Night with Erik Lehnsherr

by buckiestbarnes



Category: The Newsroom (US TV), X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Charles You Will Be Drunk, Charles and Erik need to talk, Erik is Crushing Harder than a 12-year Old Girl, Erik is not a Happy Bunny, Fluff and Angst, Reunions, They used to date and now they don't, Workplace AU, but don't worry, the newsroom au, they will again soon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 15:25:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8061673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckiestbarnes/pseuds/buckiestbarnes
Summary: Acclaimed news anchor Erik hasn't seen Charles in years, but a chance vacancy (aka Emma's schemes) on Erik's staff brings the two back together. The two try to make things work, both professionally and personally but it's always hard to leave the past behind. An HBO Newsroom AU (but can stand alone)





	

News Night with Erik Lehnsherr  
Chapter One: Six Weeks

Beta'd by the amazing metqlarm

Erik Lehnsherr did not scare easily. He’s kept his cool with congressmen and business tycoons, as well as the occasional heckler at public events. So when he arrived back from his “strongly encouraged, but also compulsory” vacation, facilitated by one Emma Frost, CEO of Frost Media, and found his newsroom empty, Erik didn’t freak out.

He didn’t scream.

He didn’t even make the paper clips on his desk shake.

He walked into to his office, made himself a macchiato using an old birthday present, and called for Raven.

“You shouted for me, Mr. Lehnsherr?” Raven quirked an eyebrow; to anyone but Erik it would seem as if nothing was wrong, but her voice was a little too soft. She almost never called him “Mr. Lehnsherr” unless she was trying to butter him up.

Erik narrowed his eyes at her and Raven suddenly became incredibly interested in the office’s hardwood flooring.

“What the hell is everyone doing? We have a news show in less than twelve hours and everyone’s suddenly decided it’s time for a cappuccino in the clouds. We don’t have a script. We don’t have a preliminary rundown. I don’t even have a fucking briefing.”

Erik knew his staff thought he rode them hard, but he had a duty to produce the best news program he possibly could. Each and everyone of them was good at what they did, he just wanted to make them great. And if that earned him a few nicknames in the making, then so be it.

Raven looked up, straightened her spine and said, “I have today’s rundown so there’s no need to start flickering the lights and Miss Frost would like to see you in her office about staffing. Also, she wanted me to remind you that regardless of whatever, or whoever, happens today any damages you cause, either accidentally or otherwise, to any part of the building, will be ‘billed to your sorry ass’. That last part’s a direct quote.”

On that note, Raven sped off so fast it was as if teleportation was her own mutation rather than her boyfriend’s. Erik suspected Raven’s speedy exit would be the first of many anomalies of the day and reached out to feel the elevator’s vibrations as he made his way up to Emma’s office.

He had the distinct feeling that he was forgetting something. Maybe he shouldn’t have participated in a shots contest on his last day. A hangover on a regular day was bad enough, but a hangover on a day when everything was seeming to go to shit before 10 AM was just cruel.

When Erik stepped out he was greeted with the familiar consuming whiteness of the thirty seventh floor and was comforted by its constance. What did not comfort Erik was the sight of a small British man holding a cup of tea and flirting with Emma assistant.

“What are you doing here, Charles?” Erik said in a flat voice as he slammed down his shields (along with his mug) and forced himself to look into Charles’ eyes.

“Shouldn’t you,” said Erik, emphasizing the ‘you’, “be off on a yacht somewhere with Tony Stark?”

If the news anchor didn’t know Charles as intimately as he did then he just might’ve missed the way the telepath went ever slightly so pale. But Erik did know Charles and that was the problem.

He knew the way Charles liked to sleep on his back with his arm curled around Erik’s. He knew how Charles loved onions in everything. He knew how soft Charles’ moans were when he came. He knew what a kind heart Charles had and how he would never mean to break someone’s heart.

Most of all, Erik knew how the fact that Charles never intended to hurt him made it so much worse.

Charles laughed a laugh that didn’t even fool Emma’s idiot assistant, who suddenly decided it was a good time to do her damn job and ring Emma.

“Why Erik I’m here for you,” Charles said with a smile that churned Erik’s stomach and dissipated all of his remaining restraint.

When all the metal in reception area began to quiver, Charles decided that perhaps in this particular situation charm would more harm than good and swallowed his pride, “Emma asked me to be here.”

When the quivering failed to stop, but rather increased to a frankly alarming rate, Charles added, “There’s no need to tear down the building.”

“Between the two of us, I’m not the one with the track record of destroying perfectly good things for no reason,” Erik snarled as the lights began to flicker and Charles began to think that perhaps returning to Genosha was a mistake.

“Erik,” Charles began apprehensively, “I did not come here to pick a fight. Not today. I know that you might not believe it, but I am truly sorr—”

“Sorry. Sure, that makes it all better, Charles.”

The look on Erik’s face made it perfectly clear that things were most certainly not all better but the metal stopped shaking and the lights returned back to normal, so Charles allowed himself to release the breath he’d been holding since he got Emma’s call yesterday afternoon.

The look on Charles’ face, Charles’ sweet, beautiful, wonderful face, made Erik remember exactly how things were when they were better. But things weren't better and Charles had no right to come bursting into Erik's life just when things were finally at peace.

"Like peace was ever an option for you, Erik," Emma said as she emerged from her office and took a coffee from her assistant.

How Emma maintained her pristine white teeth while drinking no less than a dozen coffees a day was a mystery to Erik. Perhaps he would do a special report on it.

"The puppet master reveals herself," Erik retorted, "so tell me, why did you summon darling Charles down here?"

Once upon a time, Charles would've given anything to hear Erik call him darling again, but not like this. Not with the obvious venom in Erik's voice and those cold impenetrable shields up.

Charles must have been projecting because he felt Emma's telepathic hand on his back as she said, "Charles, why don't you go downstairs and bring your staff up? I think Erik and I have quite a bit of discussing to do."

Charles didn't need to be twice and with a tentative wave in Erik's direction, ran for the elevators. Emma gestured to her office and Erik stomped behind her, making sure to slam the cast iron door behind them with his powers.

"You can let your shields down, sugar. Although I have to tell you they aren’t as strong as they usually are.” Emma made a grand gesture, “Charles can't read you in here."

Erik perched himself on the arm of one of Emma's frost white chairs and turned to her, "As much faith as I have in you Emma, I would rather not have Charles listening in on this particular conversation. Trade secrets and all."

Emma tilted her head just every so slightly to the left and Erik had the distinct feeling that he was about to be pounced on.

"Erik, you of all people should know that this room is telepath proof. You did sleep with my architect at that holiday party."

Erik took that opportunity to slide into his chair and cross his legs with the slightest of pouts.

"Besides," Emma continued, "your Charles is far too honorable to snoop. It's rather annoying, come to think of it." Emma made a face.

"You know nothing about Charles, Emma. He's not mine and he's far from honorable," Erik said with a forced calmness that Emma hadn't heard since they'd last seen Shaw at that god awful industry event.

Emma considered Erik's stiff back and white knuckles and decided that a new approach was needed.

"Maybe I do know nothing about Charles' honor," her concession earned her a triumphant, if not shocked look from Erik, "but I do know that he's tired. He's been Genosha's envoy to the UN for what, the last three years now? He's been shot at and he's seen far too much death for a boy his age. You still haven’t told me what happened with you too and that’s fine. But he needs to come home, Erik. You once told me that 'home is where Charles is,' so let him come home."

Emma paused when she felt an onslaught of sadness, regret, anger, and love hitting her own shields. Her little speech had really gotten to Erik. She smoothed out her skirt and waited for Erik's reply.

"What do you want me to do with him, Emma? Give him a key to my loft? Have domesticity with him?"

"No, I want you to give him this," Emma handed him an all access employee building pass.

"Emma...." Erik said cautiously as he looked at the pass and found Charles' shining face looking back at him. Mein Gott, those eyes.

"Come on Erik. Tell me that hot Mediterranean sun didn't completely melt your brain. Or was is the tequila? Or was it the handsome boy you were with. Singer? Actor? What was was he?"

Erik wondered why he worked for this clearly deranged woman and chose to ignore her inquiry into his sex life.

"The EP search, Erik," Emma reminded him, clearly growing impatient.

Oh, the executive producer position. Erik had completely forgotten about that during the hiatus (and Raven was some help). Scott had given notice an hour after Erik's plane had taken off and had sent the news division scrambling to fill his place.

He said something about how he and the staff were unable to work under such tyranny and how nothing was ever good enough for Erik. But the worse thing Scott has said was that Erik had given up on being a real journalist and started being the Jay Leno of news, liked by both liberals and conservatives for not bothering anyone.

Despite his tirade against Scott (which ended up going viral to Erik’s dismay), at the end of the day, he couldn’t say Scott was wrong. And he hated himself for it. 

Erik had wanted to come back and help with the search, but Emma threatened to make him think he was a two year old for the rest of his days if he so much as landed on Genoshian soil.

Shit.

So that was why Charles was here.

"No, Emma. Absolutely not."

But Erik knew it was too late. Charles had the credentials and the experience and...

"There's no one else who would work with you," Emma projected at him.

Erik sighed, word of his more intensive management style had spread in the profession and his testimony before the Genoshian Security Council hadn’t done him any favors.

“Charles Xavier hasn’t lived in Genosha for a long time. How can he produce music for its people?” Erik thought he had raised an excellent point.

“The same way that he’s been campaigning for Genoshians and mutants worldwide before the UN, with exceptional empathy and a kind, if somewhat naïve heart,” replied Emma in a voice that betrayed her admiration for the fellow telepath.

Even Erik couldn’t deny that there was hardly anything that Charles couldn’t do once he put his considerable intellect to it. Geneticist, professor, news producer, ambassador…

"It'll just be temporary, anyway," Emma said as interrupted Erik’s thoughts

Erik raised his eyebrows.

"I spoke to Charles yesterday," Emma continued, "and he agreed that a trial period would be good. He requested leave already. Six weeks. Then, you can decide if he stays or if he goes. Surely, even you can manage until then."

She raised her left eyebrow at him and the two engaged in a silent battle of wills (and glares) that only a pair with their history could.

When Erik gave in, he told himself it was because Emma was his boss and occasionally had decent ideas and besides, he really didn't have a choice (there really was no one else with showtime 12 hours away), and that it had nothing to do with Charles.

"Now if you excuse me, I do have non-Erik related things to tend to today," said Emma as she opened the door for him.

"Six weeks," Erik replied as he warily shut the door.

Emma smiled as she filed away Charles' personnel file.

***

“You’re telling me that Lehnsherr didn’t even know?”

Charles found himself trying to console an increasingly distressed Hank on the newsroom floor as he tried to prepare for the night’s show. He supposed that they could just go off the news alerts from the morning’s briefing and cover the big stories, but that was so terribly boring. Maybe, they could try…

“Charles. Charles!” exclaimed Hank, trying to get Charles’ attention away the monitor with the color coded breaking stories.

Charles gave up on coming up with an agenda to show Erik and spun around, “Yes, Hank. I’m terribly sorry, a lot going on today.”

“Jesus. Why did I do this? We’re going to be sacked as soon as he finds out. I left my country for this Charles. Why did I think this would be a good idea?” Hank covered his face.

“Hank, I promise everything is going to be just fine. Besides,” Charles said with a smile and a twinkle that only made the churning in Hank’s stomach worse, “if we get sacked and have to work at the petrol station, at least we’ll be doing it together!”

Hank had never regretted his life choices more.

“Charles, please I need to know, do I need to be getting my housing deposit back and calling, no begging, Irene back for the consulting producer job back in the States. I’ll do anything, I’ll do the weather.”

“Everything will be just fine, Hank. Please, trust me on this.” Charles put his hand on Hank’s shoulder and the senior producer relaxed. Until he saw who walked in.

“Xavier. My office.” Erik didn’t wait for Charles’ response.

Charles followed the man who once loved him more than anything in the world and who now couldn’t even look him in the eye.

“Erik,” Charles said once the glass door behind him shut, “I just wanted to say that—”

“No,” Erik interrupted as he sat behind his desk, “this how it’s going to work. For the next six weeks, we will produce the news. That’s it. No apologies. No mention of what we had. I don’t want anyone to know.”

The way that Erik said ‘had’ made Charles want to run away. To run away back to the battlefields he had seen. To run away to the flat he had moved out of back in New York. To run away to be anywhere but there, on the twenty third floor of Frost Media.

“For the next six weeks, we will put out thirty shows and then we will be done. We will produce those thirty shows without so much of a mention of our history. Then, you will leave and I will find a new EP. And we,” Erik looked at Charles dead in the eye, “will never see each other again. Am I understood?”

Charles had never felt worse, but he nodded anyway.

“What about my staff?” Charles’ voice was so meek, he barely recognized it.

“What about them?” Erik asked.

“They followed me here. They quit their jobs. They put down security deposits. They dropped everything, Erik.”

“They fucked up! They trusted you.” Erik hadn’t meant to scream, he really hadn’t and based on the stares they were getting through the door, he had been loud.

Charles looked like Erik had knocked the wind out of him and Erik suppose he did, in a sense. It really was a low blow and Erik almost felt bad. Almost. 

“Look,” Erik said as he lowered his voice, “they will get a fair chance. They will have to reinterview for their jobs, but they’ll get a shot.”

“Thank you, Erik,” Charles said with a genuine warmth that affected Erik in a way he hadn’t been in ages.

Erik found himself on the verge of smiling, but refrained, and instead asked Charles to leave him under the pretense of needing to do research.

***  
There were many things that Charles Xavier was capable of doing, but making a latte without supervision was not one of them. So, it was no surprise to him when the smoke detector above the kitchen went off.

What was a surprise to Charles was when a familiar shrill voice said, “Jesus fucking Christ, as if enough isn’t going wrong today.”

“Charles?” Raven said and she almost turned blonde purely out of what she suspected was muscle memory.

“Raven. How are you?” It had been almost as long as since when he had last seen Erik, since he had last seen his sister.

Charles’ mind wandered off into a million directions, joy, pride, sadness, embarrassment, and finally shame. But he shoved that deep inside of him, today would be an emotional one without a family reunion thrown in the mix. 

“Fine,” she replied stiffly, “working hard. Waiting to make producer. Kitty didn’t quite believe in internal promotions. God help the new EP if they don’t either.”

“Well, it’s good a thing he does, because you’re going to make a terrific associate producer.”

Raven’s eyes widened with disbelief and saw that Kitty’s old office was now filled with boxes and had a nameplate that read ‘Charles F. Xavier’.

“Charles, I don’t want a promotion just because of…” Raven trailed off and gestured at the two of them.

“I would never. I’ve seen the work you’ve done. The arms piece was fantastic.” Charles nodded, “It was excellently researched and both nuanced and understandable to the public. Last year’s debate for district eight was excellent too.” Charles looked at her and Raven felt like she was the only one who mattered.

It really was unfair, Raven decided, that Charles could leave as violently as he could and come back and make everything okay. Almost. But, associate producer was finally hers and she really did deserve it. If she had asked Erik for it, he would have given it to her in a heartbeat, but as stupid as it was, she wanted to get it because her work was noticed and not because she asked.

The second round of beeping from the smoke alarm interrupted the two of them when Hank ran directly into Raven due to the fact that his eyes were glued to the smoke detector.

“Whoa there, I have a no touching until after the second date rule,” Raven teased.

“Hank McCoy, might I introduce to you your newest AP, Raven Xa, er, Darkholme?” Charles had caught himself at the last moment. It was hard, for so long the two of them had shared a name.

No, your name, Charles. Charles shook the memory out of his head.

“If you’re all done with your coffee break, I’d like to produce a news show here,” Erik said he popped his head out of the conference room.

“Just a moment, dear,” Charles said without looking up, but he realized all too late the mistake of calling Erik ‘dear.’

Raven, aware of the duo’s history, braced herself, but Erik allowed the remark to go passed without a scene.

Charles asked Hank to wrangle the rest of the staff as he made his way over to the glass conference room. As he walked through the newsroom, he was hit with a wave of affection for his new, even if surely temporary home.

When Emma had called yesterday to offer him the job, he thought she’d hit her head and was high out of her diamond mind. He hadn’t worked in the media field in years and for good reason, but now Emma wanted him to work with the person who was the reason why he took a job that sent him as far from Genosha as possible?

Charles really loved his ambassadorship and he loved meeting mutants all over the world while fighting for those who couldn’t, but he missed having a place to call home and he missed Erik. When Emma mentioned the EP position was for News Night, Charles couldn’t say no. He couldn’t abandon Erik when he needed someone most, not again.

As the rest of the staff filed into the increasingly overcrowded room, Charles realized how monumentally stupid he must have looked as he took a seat. The seat, of course, ended up being directly across from Erik and Charles tried not to take it personally when Erik got up and stood on the far side of the room to address the staff.

“Good morning, I’m Erik Lehnsherr for those of you who don’t know me.” Erik looked around at the staff. Half of them looked practically underage and internally sighed.

“Alright,” he continued, “why don’t you all go around say your name, position, and what story got you into news.” Normally, Erik hated the summer camp type introductions, but if he was going to work with these people for the next six weeks he figured he’d better learn their names. Plus, he realized that the reasons why people got into news often revealed a lot about them.

As his new staff went around the room, Erik found himself struck by how insightful each of them was. They were all gravitated to stories that weren’t just the mainstream ones that were glamorized or vilified by the clickbait so called “news organizations,” but rather stories that were nuanced, complicated, and really mattered to the Genoshian people.

After introductions, they moved onto setting the show’s rundown. While Charles was tempted to impress Erik, if that were even possible, when he noticed that Erik was intentionally going with duller, nearly impossible to be controversial stories, he decided to hold off. By the time they finished it was nearly two and Charles was exhausted. He had forgotten how much of producing was just planning, not that it was boring. Charles had always drawn his inspiration and truly, energy from the people he worked with on his team. It really was the team dynamic that made a newsroom. 

Working with Erik was never boring, Charles had forgotten how wonderfully bright Erik’s eyes got and the way his brows would furrow as he came across a detail that was particularly insightful. Charles (and apparently a considerable part of the Genoshian public based on the ratings) thought that Erik made anything, even something as boring as stocks, sound fascinating.

As the staff was filing out eager to grab a quick bite, Charles was surprised to find Erik’s hand on his shoulder. Charles had forgotten how large Erik’s hands were and how wonderful it felt to have him near him.

“It is a tradition,” Erik began awkwardly, “for the lead anchor and the EP to have lunch together and on the first day. The goal is for them to get to know each other.”

Charles looked up from his chair, not quite sure what to say. Erik’s eyes seemed to land everywhere but on Charles.

“I would like to do that,” Erik said, “I would like to get to know you again.”

Erik realized his hand was still on Charles’ shoulder and quickly removed it.

“I would like that very much,” Charles replied with the first genuine smile he had given in ages. 

***

Two bottles of wine later (he usually was more responsible), Erik found himself slowly banging his head on the table of the tapas bar when Charles began reminiscing about Erik once locked himself out of their flat in Paris and climbed up to the third floor before remember that he was a metakinetic.

If someone had told this morning that he’d be breaking bread with Charles Xavier, he’d ask them if they had recently sustained brain damage. If they had told them that sitting there with Charles would feel like the most liberating and natural thing in the world, Erik would have caused them brain damage.

But there they were, eating some of Genosha’s finest seafood and Erik never felt better. Erik had never felt both so calm and so in control at the same time. They caught up on their last few years and Erik couldn’t believe that Charles had once made out with the Prime Minister of Canada in the back of a pickup truck.

“It’s true! I would never lie to you Erik,” Charles said with glee as he drained the bottom of his glass and Erik laughed trying to imagine Charles in a pickup truck.

At almost the same time, they both remembered that Charles had lied to Erik once before.

Then, Erik did something that surprised himself, he let it go. He let it go because he just didn’t have it in him to ruin their beautiful, wonderful, and perfect lunch.

“So,” Erik said after a long moment, “was the Canadian Prime Minister a good kisser?”

“Oh, just horrible. Too much tongue. Not like you, he didn’t have half your technique,” Charles said.

Erik smiled and found himself basking in Charles’ laugh before hating himself for it.

It wasn’t until one of those awful afternoon talk shows came on that they realized it was almost four.

***

“God, I don’t think I’ve taken a lunch that long in ages,” Erik said as they got in the elevator, both more than a little tipsy.

“Usually, I just have a sandwich at my desk and do a crossword,” he added.

Charles gasped and said, “That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard in my life, my friend.”

“You’ll be sadder in just a moment,” Erik whispered as an angry Raven came toward them the moment the elevator doors opened.

“What they hell happened to you two? Oh god, please tell me you didn’t go drinking during your lunch hour,” Raven said as she waved a clipboard.

“It was a working lunch? And drinks were had?” Charles tried.

Raven sighed, handed them an updated draft, and muttered how it wasn’t her job to police them and their lack of professionalism.

It seemed that their disappearance didn’t go unnoticed and Erik tried his best to refrain from punching Scott when he snickered at Charles and Erik’s disheveled appearance.

As Erik looked out from his office and into the newsroom, he couldn’t hide the smile on his face as he watched Charles and his time, work together so seamlessly. Scott was a good EP, but he had a tendency to shout his way out of problems and micromanage, while Charles listened to everyone before making a decision.

***

Erik thanked the heavens for giving them a slow news day. There were no threats against Genosha from abroad, aside from Stryker’s normal mutterings from the States. They had a few stories on the current legislature on the docket and a satellite interview with an expert on Mutant amnesty. They also had a few fluff pieces that sent Charles’ eyebrows up to the stratosphere and Erik found himself on the receiving end of a we’ll talk about this later look.

Everything was smooth sailing and the 9 PM show looked like it was going to go off without a hitch until Charles came running into Erik’s office at seven with a weary Hank in tow.

“Erik! Erik! Erik!” Charles said as he waved his hands in front of Erik’s face.

“Yes?” Erik replied, he never failed to be amused by Charles when he got excited.

“Hank here has found the most amazing thing. Why don’t tell you tell him, Hank?” Charles pushed Hank forward.

Hank looked like he’d rather have been standing in front a firing squad over Erik.

Erik peered at him over his glasses and shot him his best hurry up and get on with it look, but softened his glare when he felt Charles’.

“Well, you know how, um, there’s an embargo on all goods to and from countries that aren’t signers of the Mutant Protection Treaty?” Hank asked and Erik nodded.

“I was looking at some data this morning,” Hank continued, “while I was doing an unrelated report on natural resources and I noticed that in the last six months the levels of vibranium have been severely depleted. Seven months ago, Wakanda stopped selling the NATO weapons grade vibranium.” Hank paused and looked at Erik.

“It could be a conci—” Erik said.

“That’s what I thought,” Hank said, “so I looked into the financials and a company called ‘Helfire LLC’ was registered six months ago and has reported a profit of $160 million, which the market rate for about 65 tons of vibranium.”

“Let me guess, 65 tons of vibranium have been mined?” Erik guessed.

“Yes!” Charles shouted the moment Erik finished.

“This is huge,” Erik said, “Excellent job, Hank.”

Hank wasn’t quite sure what to say, but managed a stammered “Thank you, Mr. Lehnsherr.”

“Alright,” Charles said, “obviously this take precedence over everything in the first half of the show. Hank go round up every producer we have and take some of Scott’s people from 10 o’clock if you have to, we need deep background and graphics, try to talk to a vibranium inspector and find out how the hell this happened without anyone knowing.”

“What about the rundown, should I just shift things around?” Hank asked.

“No, we’re gonna cut it completely,” Erik said.

“I’m sorry?” Charles asked, he must have heard wrong. Erik was a man who insisted on preplanning everything, there was no way he was going to trust Charles with EPing their first show on the fly.

“We don’t know what we’ll be covering, so we can’t allot time for things yet. So just have the staff do a rough outline and I’ll have Charles feed and prompt me,” Erik said as if it were the most natural plan in the world.

“It’s a lot of information, Erik. Detailed info. I can’t read it over your earpiece. There are going to be graphics and quotes and….” Charles trailed off.

“I know,” Erik said, “you’re going to be in my head.”

Charles’ eyes widened, “Hank a moment, please? Why don’t you update the staff?”

“Erik,” Charles said as he got behind the desk.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Charles. It’s what we need to do. It’s what we have to do. So we’ll do it,” Erik said and Charles might have believed him if Erik’s eyes weren’t glued to the stock listings in front of him.

Charles opened his mouth to object, but Erik cut him off with a look. It was the same look that Erik used to give him when they were debating about Genoshian isolationism, the prosecution of American generals for crimes against mutants, and on one occasion, if kale or spinach was better. It was the look that Charles usually got right before Erik slammed him against the neared flat surface and fucked him into kingdom come. Charles seriously doubted that was going to happen on this particular occasion.

“Look, we’re doing this Charles. Now if excuse me, I have reading to do,” Erik said as he opened the door with his powers.

Charles sighed, left Erik’s office, and went into his own. He would’ve done anything to be allowed back in Erik’s head, but to do it like this felt wrong. Charles knew he didn’t deserve it, but he had always imagined that Erik would say that he needed Charles and that he was forgiven, and once again their minds, bodies, and souls would be one. It was a ridiculous fantasy and Charles hated himself for even thinking about it with Erik a wall away. Clearly, Erik was moving forward and wanted nothing to do with their past and Charles could hardly fault him for that.

***

“Alright, 90 seconds to air,” the tech producer called.

Charles felt a tap on this shoulder and spun around so fast he would’ve fallen over if Erik hadn’t caught him.

“Are you ready to be inside of me?” Erik wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“That’s really gross, you guys,” Raven called over from the control room and the two rolled their eyes at her.

“Let’s do it,” Charles said nervously.

“Hey, hey Charles, it’ll be fine,” Erik said as if he could detect Charles’ worries.

It wasn’t fair, Erik wasn’t supposed to be nice, he was supposed to be angry, he was supposed to hate Charles.

He wasn’t supposed to be taking Charles’ hand and raising it to his own temple.

Charles took a deep breath and reached out to Erik. And it was an ecstasy like he had never felt before. He had tried to explain what it was like to be in someone else’s mind before and he could never quite capture the beauty and wonder of it. But to back in a place where he has been before was incredible and it broke his heart to see Erik’s virtual fences still up around certain spaces.

He could’ve spent hours wandering around inside Erik’s mind, but a mental nudge from Erik reminded him that they were going to be live soon.

3, 2, 1.

“Good evening, I’m Erik Lehnsherr and this is News Night.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for the read!
> 
> Please feel more than welcome to leave comments or a kudos.


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